I HAD been invited to preach for a few Sabbaths in a pleasant village on the sea-board. During services, on my first Sunday's labors, my attention was attracted to a tall, rough-looking man, of pale countenance, on my right. Each time I glanced in his direction I saw that his eyes were fixed upon me, as if he were intent to hear, and yet with an expression that betokened any thing but sympathy with the truths of the gospel. There was nothing in his personal appearance that would lead one to single him from the throng of strangers in the sanctuary, yet anxiety for his spiritual good arose in my heart, and during the succeeding week I experienced a solicitude in his behalf that could only express itself in prayer. Next Sabbath, on my return, the stranger occupied the same seat, and while preaching I often felt for him an interest so peculiar that I resolved to seek an interview for religious conversation. Lingering to speak with Christian friends, he had retired from the congregation before I had put my resolution in practice. "Who is the tall man that sat in the third slip on my right?" I asked of a lady resident of the place. "Oh," she replied, "that's Mr. L., a poor, wretched infidel, who don't believe in the Bible, nor even that there is a God. A fearfully violent and blasphemous opposer of religion, I can't imagine how he happened to come to church to-day; he has not been within a Christian sanctuary for years." "It is singular, but without any knowledge of his condition, I have felt an earnest desire to speak to him on the subject of his soul's salvation. How do you think he would receive it?" "He would swear at you terribly, I fear. Why, that man will stand up, and dare God to strike him dead!" "Is it possible?" "Yes, and what makes his case worse is, he has a bad cough that may end in consumption. When a coughing-fit comes on it puts him in a rage, that vents itself in the most shocking oaths." What I heard respecting the man of itself would not have disheartened me. But there was such a thing, I remembered, as casting "pearls before swine," and impressions were so trustless. Therefore, I deferred calling upon him, as I had designed, that week; however, I was unhappy from a conviction of neglected duty that no reasoning could remove. Wherever I went, however occupied, his pale face would haunt me, and mentioning the case to a Christian acquaintance, united prayer was frequently offered for his conversion. I had determined to speak with him the next Sabbath without fail. But he was not in his place. My engagements were such that I could not conveniently visit him at his home. Another week rolled by, and he was still missing. "Where is Mr. L.?" I inquired, of the friend before alluded to; "I 'must' see him. I believe the Holy Spirit is impressing his case upon my soul, and I shall not find peace till I have one faithful talk with him, whether he repulses me or not." "Ah, sir," was the reply, "you are too late!"